Punishment
by starg8fans
Summary: An alternate follow-up to 'Entrada'.  Walternate wants Olivia back, and his agents won't stop at anything to find her - as Peter is about to find out.  Just an excuse for some Peter whump.  Rated T for violence/torture, but nothing too graphic, I think.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: This was written for my own and hopefully other people's entertainment, not for profit. I don't own any of the characters form the show, because if I did we'd get 52 episodes per year and I wouldn't have to resort to thinking up my own scenarios to help me through the hiatus.

**Author's Notes: **Set in mid season 3, this is an alternate follow-up to _Entrada_, basically replacing _The Marionette_. If bits of the dialogue sound familiar, it's because I *cough* borrowed them from those two episodes. I also took the liberty of traveling back in time to spring Newton from prison before Fauxlivia could get him to self-destruct. Apart from the fact that it was a crying shame to kill off such a colorful character, he was just the villain I needed to inspire me. In order to bring the storyline back to canon, just assume that he committed suicide in his cell off-screen, i.e. after the events of this fic.

Special thanks to my wonderful beta** mvariorum **who guided me around several rough spots, making this so much more readable.

I apologize in advance for any mistakes regarding medical issues or Boston. I did research my facts, but Google is a poor excuse for personal experience.

Part 1 of 3

_If it wasn't for you I would never have made it back. You saved my life._

Those words played in Peter's mind in an endless loop, long after Olivia had succumbed to exhaustion again. He just sat there by her hospital bed at the Boston Medical center, her hand in his, pondering the irony of her revelation. She considered him her savior, when in fact he had deserted her in the worst possible way. Peter dreaded the moment when she would be strong enough to learn the truth. Not for his own sake, he would gladly take whatever scorn and punishment Olivia would inflict on him - feeling he deserved it and more. No, what would shatter his heart into a thousand fragments would be to see the love and happiness he had just witnessed fade from her amazing green eyes, only to be replaced by hurt and betrayal.

Peter didn't know how long he had been sitting there when the door opened and Broyles stepped into the room. Noticing that Olivia was asleep, the FBI agent beckoned and Peter joined him in the corridor, leaving the door open.

"Has she woken up yet?" Broyles asked.

Peter nodded. "She was conscious for a few minutes."

"Did she say anything? About the Other Side's plans for her?"

"No." Something in Broyles tone alerted Peter that there was more to the question. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"It's more of a gut feeling." Broyles' eyes wandered to the sleeping woman in the bed. "The circumstances of her return indicate that Agent Dunham escaped. And we know that the Other Side has agents here. They could be trying to get her back."

Peter caught on immediately. "You mean they may not have had the time to extract all they wished to learn from our Olivia. You think she's in danger."

"She could be. That's why I will have her transferred to a safe house."

Peter nodded. "Good idea. And just in case the shapeshifters are already watching her, we should use a decoy to draw them away."

"A decoy?" Broyles asked with a frown. "That would take time to arrange. I would prefer to move Agent Dunham as quickly as possible."

"Don't worry, I'll be the decoy." Peter's quick wit had already formulated a plan. "All we need is a volunteer who resembles Olivia superficially. The Shapeshifters don't know what kind of injuries she has, so we can bandage their heads so you can't see the hair. I bring the double out the back entrance, load her into my SUV, and drive to our house in Cambridge. In the meantime, you transfer Olivia into an ambulance that's parked in the garage out of sight."

Broyles nodded. "Good thinking. I will also provide an unmarked police car as an escort for you. That will make it even more believable."

"And just in case the other side has already infiltrated the ICU, " Peter added, looking up and down the corridor to make double sure they could not be overheard, "we'll make the switch in the elevator."

_FringeFringeFringe_

"Promise me to be careful, Peter," Olivia said as a nurse put the finishing touches to a turban of bandages that covered her head completely.

"No need to worry," Peter reassured her. "You've only been back a few hours. I doubt the Other Side already has an abduction scenario planned. This is just a precaution."

"Still." Olivia played nervously with the hem of the scrub top she wore. "I don't like the idea of you being the target in this decoy operation."

"But I'm the obvious choice," Peter insisted. "It'll work like a charm, you'll see."

Olivia sighed. "Promise me you'll call as soon as you're home, okay?"

"Of course I will." Putting his fingers under her chin, Peter lifted her face to press a kiss to her forehead, just below the bandage. "And I also promise to come see you the minute Broyles tells me it's safe."

Olivia nodded, trying her best to answer with a smile. At that moment the door opened and Broyles entered to announce that everything was in place, and that the police officer who had been dressed and bandaged to look just like Olivia was now ready.

Peter's plan went without a hitch. On the elevator ride down the car stopped on another floor to admit an male nurse pushing a gurney with a covered body on it. As the elevator continued its descent, the woman who was hiding under the sheet switched places with Olivia, who had been slouched in a wheel chair, an oxygen mask covering her mouth and nose. On the ground floor Peter got out pushing the wheelchair while the gurney continued its way down to the basement level, that housed the pathology department as well as the parking garage.

While assisting the patient into the back of his SUV and helping her lie down across the seats out of sight, Peter took care to shield her face from prying eyes as much as he could. He had just closed the door when two men approached him and flashed their badges.

"Detectives Reed and Decker, Boston PD," the taller one of them said. "We'll be escorting you and Agent Dunham to Cambridge."

"Thank you, detectives, I appreciate that," Peter replied, barely giving the offered IDs a glance since Broyles had announced their security detail. He walked around the car to the driver's seat while the two plainclothes officers got into their own vehicle, ready to follow the black SUV.

After putting the key into the ignition, Peter turned to the young woman in the back seat. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Sharon," was the reply.

"I'm Peter. Nice to meet you. You comfortable?" When she nodded, Peter said. "Then let's get this show on the road," and started the engine. As he pulled away from the curb he saw in his rear view mirror an ambulance exiting from the garage ramp behind him and turning in the other direction.

_FringeFringeFringe_

They made good time down Massachusetts Ave and were getting close to the Turnpike underpass when Peter had to pull up at a red light. To his surprise, the police car following him drew up level with him, and the officer in the passenger seat rolled down his window.

"We just heard that there's heavy congestion ahead, due to an overturned vehicle at the Beacon Street junction. Could be coincidence, but the timing and the location so close to the bridge are suspicious. I suggest we take another route, pick up I-93 and double back via Washington Street."

"Makes sense. Let's do it," Peter replied and set his indicator for a right turn.

As he drove down Belvedere Street, something kept niggling at his brain. Pulling his phone from his pocket, Peter looked at the display and saw that he had no signal. Next he activated the car's GPS and traffic advisory. There was no sign of an incident at Massachusetts and Beacon.

With a muttered oath Peter crammed the phone back into his pocket.

"Is something wrong?" the officer in the back seat asked.

"Yes, there is. The detectives following us are phony, and they somehow managed to block my mobile's signal."

Sharon made a move to sit up, but Peter stopped her with a quick, "Stay down!" When she obeyed he explained, "I don't want them to know we're on to them."

"Right." After a short pause the police woman asked, "You got a plan?"

Peter nodded. "I need to drop you off somewhere so you can alert Broyles. And then I have to get to the house in Cambridge without them noticing that you're not in the car anymore." He thought for a moment. "There's a gas station on Herald Street. I'll find a way to get out of their sight for a moment, and you make a run for it. Just don't let them see you, okay?"

"Gotcha."

Peter heard the rustling of fabric and when he turned his head he met Sharon's eyes from where she was crouching in the footwell behind the passenger seat. She had discarded the bandages and her face was framed by a mass of dark red curls. She was also pulling off the scrub top and pants, which was no small feat in the confined space. Underneath she wore a very short jeans skirt and low-cut halter top.

Looking ahead again Peter said, "I thought the idea was to be inconspicuous."

"Nope," Sharon replied, "the idea is not to be taken for an invalid Olivia Dunham."

Peter cast an approving look over his shoulder. "I see they picked the right officer for the job."

"Actually, I'm a Lieutenant," Sharon corrected him. "And I work in vice, so this outfit comes with the territory. But what about you?"

Peter smiled, but there was no trace of humor in the expression. "I'm going to play hide and seek with these guys."

_FringeFringeFringe_

"Are you sure he doesn't suspect anything?" the shapeshifter who called himself 'Decker' asked his colleague.

"Why should he?"

"This isn't the direct route to I-93."

"Maybe he's trying to see if we're being followed."

"Possibly." 'Decker' was not convinced. But just then, the SUV before them turned into a gas station.

"See," 'Reed' said with conviction. "He's just low on gas." But to their surprise the vehicle didn't pull up by the pumps but turned into an empty parking space right next to a mini van. There was no room next to Peter's car, so the shapeshifters had to park on the other side of the van. The moment the car came to a standstill, 'Decker' jumped out and walked over to Peter who had opened the SUV's hood and was just pulling out the rod to check the oil level.

"Anything wrong?" 'Decker' asked.

"Nothing serious. The oil light came on, so I thought I better check." Peter inspected the tip of the rod. "A bit on the low side, but enough to make it home." He put the rod back into its place and closed the hood. "Let's not waste any more time."

'Decker' nodded in agreement. As he followed Peter to the driver's door, he cast a look into the backseat of the car. The SUV's tinted windows didn't make for a clear view of the interior, but he could see the bandage covered head sticking out from under the blanket. Still, something didn't look right. The blanket was too flat. With an oath, he yanked the back door open and tugged the blanket away, staring in disbelief at the empty back seat.

"Reed!" he shouted. As the other shapeshifter came running around the front of the mini van, neither of them noticed the provocatively dressed girl slithering out from under the back end of the parked car and casually walking away.

'Decker' pulled a gun and jabbed it into Peter's side. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"Who?" Peter asked innocently.

"The woman in the back seat."

Peter grinned and shook his head. "There was nobody in the back seat."

This earned him a painful right hook into his kidneys, courtesy of 'Reed'. "Don't mess with us," 'Decker' growled. "We saw her get into the car."

"And she got out again on the other side as you two stooges were walking towards your car. Don't you get it? I'm just the decoy. Olivia is long gone."

'Reed' looked at 'Decker'. "Do you think it's possible?"

"I don't know. But check the area. See if she's hiding here somewhere. She's injured and wouldn't get far."

As 'Reed' walked away, 'Decker' pulled a phone from his pocket and made a call. He reported their position and the missing Olivia. After receiving instructions, he snapped the phone shut and motioned for Peter to step away from the SUV.

"We're going on a little trip. You're driving. But we're taking our car."

"Where are we going?"

"Newton wants to have a chat with you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to everybody who's favorited or bookmarked this story, and a special thank you with a cherry on top to those who have taken the time to review! I really appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me, and I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as well.

So without further ado, on to the next chapter.

Part 2 of 3

Peter glared at the head shapeshifter. It was the only thing he could do, being tied by his wrists and ankles to a heavy, carved wooden armchair. He had to admit, Newton had class. The house where he had been taken could only be called a mansion, and the room they were in now was large and tastefully furnished, with bookcases lining the walls and the setting sun streaming through the large French windows that led out to a terrace.

"I must admit, I underestimated you," Newton said, and there was just the slightest trace of respect in his voice. He looked the part of lord of the manor, wearing a navy blue suit, white shirt and paisley silk tie. "You work quickly. Did you cook up this ingenious little plot? I hear you are a genius."

Peter cast him a withering look but remained silent.

"Alright, have it your way," Newton said, twirling a large caliber gun around his finger. "You know the drill. You tell me what I want to know, and nobody gets hurt. So, here goes. Where are they hiding Olivia Dunham?"

"You're wasting your time. I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to," Peter shot back. "I didn't ask for the address."

"Do you really expect me to fall for the old 'I don't know anything, I can tell you nothing, yada yada, yada' routine?" Newton stopped spinning the gun and pointed it at Peter. "I am not a patient man, and I have the means, motive AND opportunity to find out if you're lying." He pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit Peter in the thigh. He was too shocked at first to make a sound, then gritted his teeth when the pain flared up.

"You can plug me full of holes all you won't, but I can't tell you what I don't know," Peter managed to grind out.

"Tsk, tsk, that would be so... unimaginative."

Newton placed the gun on the antique desk against which he was leaning and walked closer until he was towering over Peter. With his head cocked to one side, he watched the blood trickle from the wound and soak the black denim of Peter's jeans.

"You humans. What a vibrant color your blood is, so full of life. And still, you are so fragile."

Bending slightly, Newton inserted a finger into the bullet hole. Peter half managed to stifle a cry but couldn't stop himself from groaning as the shapeshifter worked his finger deeper. It was buried almost to the second knuckle when Newton stopped. By now Peter was close to hyperventilating with the attempt not to give his torturer the satisfaction of hearing him cry out. Newton regarded his victim's silent struggle for a moment, nothing but bemused interest on his face.

"Ah," he finally said. "Found it." And he ground the bullet against the bone. Peter screamed until he lost consciousness.

_FringeFringeFringe_

Olivia didn't handle frustration well. And this situation was about as frustrating as they come. Being cooped up in a safe house with nothing to do was bad enough. Waiting to hear from Peter who was out there on a dangerous mission made it worse, but to not have the physical strength to even pace the confines of the room surely took the cake. Astrid had brought her some old magazines she had found on the coffee table in the living room, but Olivia had long since given up the pretense of interest in any of the articles. Resting against the headboard of her twin bed, she was blindly staring out the window, turning her phone over and over in her lap when Astrid came in.

"Olivia..." she said, and from her tone alone Olivia knew she was the bearer of bad news.

"It's about Peter, isn't it?" she asked, needing to know even though she didn't want to.

"They got a call from the police officer who was in the car with him. The escort was compromised. Peter helped her escape, but he himself was taken."

"Where?" Olivia hated the fact that her voice was only a croak.

Astrid shook her head. "We don't know - yet. Every resource at our disposal is searching for him now. We know the make and color of the vehicle as well as the license plate. Satellite images, traffic cams, police beats, they're all dedicated to the search. They'll find Peter. It's only a matter of..."

A soft knock on the door interrupted her speech. An FBI agent from Olivia's security detail poked his head inside and handed Astrid a cordless phone. "Agent Broyles for you, ma'am."

Astrid took the phone and hit the speaker button. "Agent Broyles? Farnsworth here. You're also on with Olivia Dunham. I hope you have good news for us."

"I wish that were so." Broyles voice sounded tired and defeated. "We were able to identify the car that took Peter and track it from the gas station to the entrance of Callahan Tunnel. The problem is, it never came out on the other side. A patrol car found the vehicle in the tunnel, abandoned in a lay-by." He took a deep breath. "I am sorry, Agent Dunham. They must have changed rides. We are trying to locate a witness who can tell us what kind of car was parked at that spot before the switch, but I'm afraid it's a long shot at best."

"Can't you identify the make and color? You should be able to spot the extra car that came out of the tunnel but didn't go in," Astrid suggested.

"I wish we could, Agent Farnsworth. But both satellite and security camera coverage of the tunnel exit was interrupted with heavy static for about ten minutes after the kidnappers' car went in. We're dealing with a highly organized adversary here, who have state-of-the-art technology at their disposal."

"What about Peter's car?" Olivia asked, trying very hard to keep her voice steady and professional.

"Still at the gas station. I assume the kidnappers left it behind because they suspected it was fitted with a tracking device."

After the call ended Astrid sat on the edge of Olivia's bed. "There's still time, we'll think of something. If they wanted to kill Peter, they would have shot him there and then."

"I know," Olivia whispered. "They want information from him. And that's what terrifies me. I know what the people from Over There are capable of."

_FringeFringeFringe_

Something acrid went up his nostrils, all the way into his sinuses. Peter's eyes snapped open. It took him a moment to orientate himself, but the bone-deep ache in his leg quickly brought back the memory of his predicament.

Newton was standing in front of him, the crushed pieces of an ammonia ampoule in his hand.

"So sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep, but we are on a bit of a schedule here." He let his hand hover threateningly over the wound in Peter's thigh. "Please tell me you'll be more cooperative now."

Peter let his head fall back so it rested against the back of the chair. His vision was still swimming in and out of focus, and there was a low buzzing sound somewhere deep in his brain.

"My answer won't change cause it's the only one I can give you."

Newton sighed. "Having to repeat oneself is so tedious," he proclaimed before once more ramming his finger into Peter's thigh, yet again searching for the bullet he had put into it. Peter bit his lip until blood welled up under his teeth. He could only hope that he would faint quickly. But this time, the shapeshifter was more subtle. Instead of grinding the bullet into the bone, he began rubbing it against it, back and forth, with hardly any pressure but relentlessly. To Peter it felt as if somebody was playing the singing saw on his nerve endings. Sobs began to wrack his body as the agony spiraled higher and higher until the tears in his eyes spilled over and trickled down his cheeks.

Newton watched the display impassively. Without breaking the rhythm of his torture, he said, "You can make it stop any time you choose. Just tell me what I want to know, and we can both go somewhere a lot more enjoyable."

All Peter could do was shake his head. He longed for the relief unconsciousness would grant him, but he wasn't quite there yet. In desperation, he jerked his leg up against the hand torturing him. The bullet slipped under Newton's blood-slicked fingers and drilled itself deeper into the muscle.

The shapeshifter's initial expression of surprise quickly morphed into annoyance, followed by puzzlement and then concern. Pressure was building up against his finger, and when he pulled it from the wound it was followed by a rush of bright red blood, that continued pumping from the bullet hole in regular spurts.

Swearing under his breath, Newton yanked his belt from its loops and quickly cinched it around Peter's thigh.

"Reed! Decker!" he shouted. The two fake police officers rushed inside from their posts outside the door. "Get me the med kit, quickly!" Newton ordered. "He's torn an artery. We can't afford to lose him."

The panic in his usually so placid voice brought a small smile to Peter's blood flecked lips, but it was wiped off all too soon when Newton yanked at the belt with superhuman strength. Peter cried out when the buckle bit painfully into the muscle.

_FringeFringeFringe_

The dinner Astrid had brought Olivia sat untouched on the nightstand. Olivia herself had withdrawn into a corner, the sheet pulled up all the way to her chin. In spite of the half dozen agents who were guarding her, she had never felt this alone. The thought of Peter in the hands of the enemy, and the chance that she would never see him again filled her with a dread that made he whole body shake. In her darkest hours Over There, he had been her beacon, her anchor. Seeing him again after her return had given her a feeling of security she had never felt before. And now this safety had been taken from her again.

She closed her eyes and couldn't help but imagine where he was now. The thought of Peter locked down, tied up, tortured for information almost made her whimper with terror.

Suddenly a faint, pungent odor tickled her nostrils, and she opened her eyes to find its source. But there was nothing nearby that could explain the sudden assault on her sense of smell. She sniffed the sheet that covered her, but only found the sweet, flowery fragrance of a widely used detergent. The feeling of dread inside her intensified, but it was different. It wasn't due to loss or solitude, it was a response to a very real threat. The breathtaking fear of something terrible that was about to happen. Next thing she knew a cramp-like pain flared in her right thigh.

The fear inside her focused, became something like a ball of lead right under her breastbone. It was urging her on, propelling her out of bed. Olivia managed to stand on shaking legs, but when she took the first step to follow the urgent yet unexplainable need within, her legs buckled and she crashed to the floor.

The noise brought Astrid running. "Olivia?" she called out in concern when she found her friend and colleague lying on the floor. Pulling her to a sitting position, Astrid tried to manhandle Olivia back into the bed, but the other woman fought her off with surprising strength.

"Astrid - you have to help me. We have to go."

"Go? Go where? You're in no shape to..."

"I'm not sure. But I think it's him. I think I've established a connection with Peter. Astrid, I know where we can find him."

"Then just tell me, and we'll send a SWAT team." Astrid's placating voice made it clear that she thought Olivia was hysterical.

"It's not like that. I don't know exactly where he is, but something... draws me in his direction. Get me in a car, Astrid, we'll just follow it and it will lead us to Peter!"

Olivia's pleading gaze found Astrid's skeptical one. "You don't believe me," she said finally.

"I'm sorry, Olivia, after all we've seen in the past two years I'm willing to swallow a lot of things, but you realize how crazy this sounds, right? You've been through a traumatic experience that included messing with your memories, and you're worried sick about Peter without a way to help him. Isn't it possible that this is just your brain telling you what you want to hear?"

"Yes," Olivia whispered. "I's possible. But Astrid," she took the Junior Agent's hand into her own, hanging on as if for dear life, "I don't need you to reinforce my own doubts. I need you to believe in me, in this. If there is even the slightest chance that this is real, that it could save Peter, we can't afford not to take it."

Astrid stared at Olivia for quite a long time, then she nodded. "I'll get the car. We can brief Broyles on the way." She gave Olivia a small, encouraging smile. "If anybody can find Peter, it's you."

_FringeFringeFringe_

"My, my," Newton said, his bemused mask firmly back in place when he saw that the blood flow had slowed down and that his cronies had begun applying a pressure pack to the wound. "What a stunt to pull. You are almost more trouble than you're worth. What an earth am I going to do with you?"

Peter wasn't exactly eager to find out the answer to this question. With almost clinical detachment he diagnosed himself as slowly going into shock. He was shivering uncontrollably, and the buzzing in his head had become louder. It sounded like a woman's voice. His mother? Was he already at the point where his life flashed past him behind his eyes? He tried to make out what the voice was saying, but the relentless pressure on the torn flesh of his maltreated thigh was breaking his concentration again and again.

When the pressure bandage was in place, Newton stepped closer to Peter and looked him over carefully. He catalogued the pallor of his face, the flat, hectic breathing, the tremors that shook his prisoner's body. Then he looked at his watch.

"They should know by now that their decoy is missing. I'm sure they're using every means they have to find us. That leaves us with a couple of hours to get what we want." He looked back at Peter. "He needs to be stabilized before I work on him again. Start an IV with 0 negative blood and dextrose. We'll initiate phase two in twenty minutes." And with those words he left the room.

After setting up the drip the other two shapeshifters left as well. Peter was drifting in and out of consciousness. The transfusion barely managed to compensate for the blood that was still seeping through the pressure pack, in spite of the tourniquet that was still cinched painfully tight around his thigh.

Suddenly his head jerked up. _'Peter.'_ His eyes scanned the room, but he was alone. _'Hang in there, Peter.'_ He shook his head. Was he beginning to hallucinate? Had they put drugs in the IV to confuse him, make him break? _'Not long now... help is on the way.' _ Wishful thinking, that's what it had to be. But the harder he listened, the more the faint fragments he'd been hearing became a steady flow of whispered encouragement, reverberating in his head. And if he wasn't mistaken, the voice was getting louder.

_FringeFringeFringe_

A black van tore out of a side street and attached itself to their tail. Astrid cast an eye in the rearview mirror. "Broyles and the S.W.A.T. team," she said to Olivia, who barely acknowledged this information, she was too focused on not losing the thread that tethered her to Peter.

"Take a right here," Olivia said, and Astrid took the curve with squealing tires.

"I sure hope we didn't drag the others all the way out here for nothing," she muttered under her breath. In the next instant, she wanted to kick herself. She still remembered Olivia's plea not to doubt her very clearly.

But Olivia was unfazed. "We didn't," she said. "I still can't explain it, but I know it's him. I can't read his thoughts, but I recognize Peter's stubbornness. I can feel his resistance to the pain, his determination not to give in. I only wish I could..." She broke off as a puzzled expression crossed her face, but then she turned to Astrid, excitement in her eyes. "I think he heard me. There was this tiny sliver of... I guess it was hope when I just thought about the fact that we're getting closer. Can't be far now, the connection is getting stronger by the minute."

"I sure hope you're right," Astrid said, looking about at the affluent neighborhood they were passing through. "And good thing you have your mojo. I would never have thought of looking for a shapeshifter hideout in a place like this."

"Yes, it is curious. But since we're dealing with Walternate's agents we can expect the unexpected." Suddenly a shadow crossed Olivia's face. "We better hurry. Peter's fear just spiked. I'm afraid they're about to do something terrible to him." Olivia pointed ahead. "Take a left at that traffic light, and keep going straight until I tell you to stop." Then she closed her eyes, her lips moving silently as she begged Peter to hang on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes: **Again, thanks so much for the reviews, the alerts and the favorites. I really appreciate them. Who knows, with all this encouragement there could be another chapter to this. A plot bunny has been trying to get my attention. One that would completely blow the T rating for this fic out of the water, though.

Actually, the majority of this part was supposed to be a short epilogue to tie up some loose ends. But then Walter made an appearance, and just ran away with the story. So anyway, hope you enjoy it, and thanks for sticking with this to the end!

Again, no copyright infringement intended, even though I borrowed a few lines verbatim from the show.

Part 3 of 3

When Newton returned he was followed by his two cronies who were pushing a cart with a metal box on it. Peter's breath hitched when he saw the wires, the gauges and the switches. One of the fake policemen uncoiled a long cable and plugged it into a socket by the door.

Olivia - because by now Peter was pretty sure it was her in his head - must have picked up on his nervousness, because her monologue got more persistent. _ 'You must stall them, Peter, we're almost there, just hold out a little bit longer, we'll have you out of there in no time...'_

The voice in his head had become so loud that Peter missed the fact that Newton was talking to him. When he didn't react, strong fingers grabbed his hair and yanked his head backwards so he was looking into the shapeshifter's face.

"I said, are you ready to do yourself a favor and talk?" he repeated. Peter cast a look at the alligator clip tipped wires in Newtons other hand before locking eyes with his tormentor again.

"Electro shocks? Really? Isn't that a little - how did you call it... unimaginative compared to your usual flair?"

The expression in Newton's eyes oscillated between anger and respect. He let go of Peter's hair and took a step backwards.

"I agree, this apparatus is rather crude. But the art of this procedure lies in finding just the right balance..." He reached out his hand and ripped Peter's shirt open, sending buttons flying everywhere. "... between causing you the maximum level of discomfort..." At this point he attached one of the alligator clips to Peter's left nipple, "...and not stopping your heart." The second clip closed over the other nub. Peter ground his teeth. The pain was negligible compared to what he'd had to endure already, but knowing what was in store for him made him feel extremely vulnerable. When Newton pulled the cart closer and flicked the power switch a slight tingling sensation ran through Peter's chest. He knew that it was all part of the shapeshifter's psychological warfare, but his already balled fists still clenched even tighter in anticipation, his nails leaving red welts in his palms.

With the grand gesture of a conductor Newton reached for the dial that would crank up the voltage. He raised an eyebrow in Peter's direction. "Will you really make me resort to this?" he asked. Peter was desperately searching for a snarky comeback when the sound of splintering glass caused everybody to turn towards the garden side of the room. Two of the French windows disintegrated in a shower of splinters as black clad and helmeted figures catapulted themselves into the room. Instinctively, the two fake policemen went for their guns, but they were felled by a volley of machine gun fire before their hands had even wrapped around the handles.

With the speed and agility of a panther Newton had thrown himself towards the desk where his gun still rested, but before he could pick up the weapon a voice from the door thundered "DON'T!" Broyles stood in the doorway, a magnum leveled at the shapeshifter's forehead in an unwavering two-handed grip. You could almost hear the wheels in Newton's brain whirring away, weighing options and repercussions. Then he dropped the hand that had been reaching for the gun and stood up straight. "You know," he said conversationally, "I usually don't do well with orders." He slowly raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, a smile appearing on his face. "But since you ask so nicely, I'll make an exception."

Even while nodding at two special ops men to secure the prisoner, Broyles reached for the radio in his tac vest and barked, "I want the medical team in here NOW." As the handcuffs clicked around Newton's wrists a team of three paramedics in bright orange jackets rushed past Broyles and descended on Peter, quickly cutting through the restraints that held him to the chair and removing the alligator clips. They were followed at a slower pace by Olivia who was white as a sheet, and leaned heavily on Astrid to stay upright as she advanced towards Peter.

One of the paramedics moved to intercept her. "Sorry, ma'am, we really need to..." But Peter reached out a hand towards Olivia. "Please guys," he breathed, "just give us a minute, okay?" Seeing the look on his face, the medics backed away. Olivia fell to her knees in front of Peter, it was impossible to tell whether from exhaustion or shock at the sight of him.

"Oh God," she whispered, "what did he do to you?"

"Nothing that can't be fixed," Peter reassured her, cupping her face in his palm. She leaned into it as if to draw strength from his touch. "That was you in my head, wasn't it?" Peter asked.

Olivia nodded. "When I found out that you'd been taken I was terrified. And suddenly there was this... connection between us. Like an invisible rubber band, pulling me towards you. It led us right here."

Peter smiled. "And just in time too."

Olivia shuddered, resting her hands on Peter's thighs to ground herself. "The closer we got the more I felt your pain and your fear. It was terrible, but in a way it was also reassuring. It was proof that I wasn't imagining things."

Suddenly Olivia noticed something warm and sticky under her left palm. She looked down and was shocked to see a steady trickle of blood flow from under the pressure bandage and drip to the floor where a sizable puddle had already formed. "Peter, you're bleeding out! Quick, help him!" she called out to the medics as she tried to stand, glad to find Astrid right there to steady her when she staggered. Instinctively Peter tried to get up to help her, but he sank back with a groan when his leg protested the movement. He shook his head. "We're a sorry pair, aren't we?" he said as the paramedics moved to lift him out of the chair and onto a stretcher to rush him to the nearest hospital for surgery.

"As you said, nothing that can't be fixed." The smile she gave him was full of warmth, but a cold hand wrapped itself around Peter's heart. Yes, they would both heal from the physical trauma. But there was another matter that would have to be addressed soon, and Peter knew that it would tear up Olivia's soul in ways far worse than anything either of them had endured that day. Whether they would be able to find a way to fix those wounds - only time would tell.

_FringeFringeFringe_

"Peter, what are you doing?" Walter chastised his son, who came very close to rolling his eyes.

"What does it look like Walter? I got myself a cup of coffee."

"You're not supposed to be walking around. If you had just told me I could have..."

"I'm not supposed to put too much pressure on the leg is what the doctors said," Peter clarified.

"Exactly. That's why they gave you that cane to use," Walter insisted.

This time Peter _did_ roll his eyes. "Walter, you act as if I just ran a marathon. I only walked from the sofa to the kitchen and now back. Personally, I consider it physical therapy."

Walters face fell.

"I'm just worried about you, son. You were in surgery for such a long time, I was afraid I was going to lose you."

Peter could only marvel again how his usually so cantankerous father managed to make him feel like he just kicked a puppy at the drop of a hat. He sighed. "It's alright Walter, I understand. But I'm fine. Now if only..."

He was interrupted by a beep from his mobile phone, signaling reception of a text message. Peter pulled it from his back pocket and checked the display. "It's from Olivia."

"Sit down first before you read it, you shouldn't be standing so long, and without your cane too..." Walter had switched back into 'father-knows-best' mode, but Peter decided to let it go. He allowed Walter to help make him comfortable on the sofa, but drew the line when his father produced a rug to cover him with.

"Seriously, Walter? It's almost 80˚ in here after all the baking you've done."

In spite of the brush-off Walter kept hovering, and Peter accepted the fact that he would get no privacy to read the message. So to save time he read it out loud. _"Suffering from acute case of cabin fever. Need company. You fit enough to receive me? Will bring whiskey. O."_

"How delightful, Agent Dunham is coming over," Walter said happily, clapping his hands like a child. "I wonder if there's enough cake left," he mused a moment later.

"Enough to feed an army, Walter," Peter assured him, as he composed his reply. After he'd sent it, he looked up to find Walter watching him. "What is it?"

"You did tell her to come over, didn't you?"

"Of course." Peter frowned. "Why wouldn't I?"

Walter sat down on the edge of the sofa.

"Peter," he said seriously. "I understand how difficult it is to be candid with people you care about, and..."

"Walter, I really don't want..."

"Please, son, hear me out. I know that his is an instant where a parent is asking a child to do as he says, not as he does, but you understand better than most the pain that a lie can inflict."

Peter closed his eyes. "Yes, I do." He took a deep breath. "Which is why, even though it will fundamentally change the way she feels about me, I am going to tell Olivia everything." He looked at his father. "Okay?"

Walter's face twitched, his emotions as usual clearly visible in his features. "You're a good man, Peter," he said finally. "And she knows that."

Peter had never before wished for anything as much as he now wished for Walter to be right.

_FringeFringeFringe_

When Olivia knocked on their front door Walter was in the bathroom. "I got it!" Peter called out as he pushed himself up from the sofa.

"No, son, don't get up again, I..."

"Too late, Walter," Peter called back from the hallway, adding the caveat, "and don't you dare come out of there until you've made yourself decent."

"Hi," he said as he opened the door.

"Hey," Olivia replied. "What was all that about?"

"You don't want to know," Peter replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Olivia looked him up and down as she walked past him. "Should you be walking on that leg?" she asked.

"Should you be driving all over town?" he shot back.

Olivia laughed. "Touché." She did, however, notice the almost invisible wince as Peter shifted his weight to favor the injured leg. "But I drove very slowly and carefully, so you should at least use that cane you tried to conveniently 'forget' at the hospital."

"I keep telling him the same thing, but he won't listen," Walter called out, coming down the hallway. To Peter's relief he was fully zipped and covered. Walter took Olivia's hand, a radiant smile on his face. "It is so good of you to visit, my dear. And I'm very glad to see you looking so much better. Doesn't she look wonderful, Peter?"

"She does," Peter agreed with a wink in Olivia's direction. He reached out to help her shed her jacket, but Walter elbowed him aside. "Back to the sofa with you, young man. And don't you dare move from it until it's time for bed."

"And Walter strikes again," Peter deadpanned when he saw a faint blush appear on Olivia's still paler than usual cheeks. To save them both any further ambiguous comments from this uninhibited father he accepted the bottle Olivia had brought and limped back to the sofa. Before he sat down he pulled up a foot stool to rest his leg, leaving room on the sofa for Olivia to sit next to him.

_FringeFringeFringe_

With a contented sigh Walter placed his empty cake plate on the coffee table between them. He was the only one who had gone for thirds. Peter and Olivia had declined after their second helping. Peter was just about to suggest that his father give them some time alone, when Walter spoke up. "I don't wish to pry, my dear, but I must confess to a rabid curiosity to hear more about this connection that happened between you and my son when he was missing."

Olivia frowned at the crumbs on her plate. "I still can't explain it. You've read the report, it's a detailed account what happened, but as to why I have no idea."

"I must say, the strength of the bond you described surprised me as well," Walter admitted. "But if you think about it, the circumstances were just right to trigger your dormant powers. The combination of fear and emotional attachment, that's the key."

"I never thought I'd say this, but I guess I owe my life to the fact that you did those Cortexiphan trials on Olivia when she was a kid," Peter sighed.

Olivia sat forward. "That's it. That's why the bond was so strong." She looked at Walter. "To help me cross over I injected myself with massive doses of the drug Walternate had synthesized from my blood samples. My Cortexiphan levels were through the roof when I arrived. They must still have been way higher than usual when I was at the safe house."

"But then why didn't you cross over? Or set the room on fire? Why did you develop this connection instead?" Peter wanted to know.

"I guess it's a question of what part of the trigger is the dominant one," Walter explained. "When Olivia was a child, the predominant emotion was fear. She wanted to get away, to another, safer world. So she crossed over. But this time," Walter pointed proudly to the two young people sitting in front of him, "it was the emotional attachment that was stronger. It drew her not towards another world but towards the man she..."

"Thank you, Walter, we get it," Peter interrupted. "And now that this mystery is solved, if you don't mind, Olivia and I have a bottle to kill."

"What? Oh yes, of course, I understand. Anyway, I probably should not indulge since I self-medicated only this afternoon. I think I will retire." He stood, picking up his empty plate and mug. "Good night son. Good night, Agent Dunham."

"Good night, Walter," they said in unison, which brought another fond smile to Walter's face.

When Walter had gone Olivia got them some glasses from the kitchen, and Peter poured their drinks. They toasted each other and talked of this and that. It was only when they had the third measure of whiskey in their tumblers that Olivia addressed the topic they had skirted so far even though it was foremost in their minds.

"You know," she said, "when you go on vacation and you come back and some things are a revelation? Like coffee, or my favorite shoes. And then... other things are just..." She took a contemplative sip from her glass before she continued, "I didn't know. My mail was opened, it's kind of disconcerting knowing that somebody else has been living your life." Suddenly she noticed that Peter had withdrawn the arm that had been resting behind her on the back of the sofa and now sat rigidly beside her, his eyes staring into space. "Hey. You okay?"

Taking a deep breath, Peter nodded. Then he turned around to face Olivia. With a heavy heart he said, "There's something that I have to talk to you about."

_The End...?_


	4. Sequel Note

For anybody who's interested, I've written a sequel to this story. My take on how Olivia reacts to Peter's confession. I didn't want to add it to this fic since I would have to bump the rating for the whole thing to M only because of one chapter. Yes, there will be smut along the way. If that's something you'd want to read, it's called 'The Truth' and you can find it under my user name. I tried posting the link here, but won't let me, it always has the beginning snipped off and comes out as:

.net/s/7026083/1/The_Truth

First chapter is up, the rest is (almost) done and will follow over the next few days.


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